


Torsion

by Seanbiggerstaffrox



Category: Teen Wolf (TV), teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: Established Relationship, Explicit Consent, First Time, M/M, Tentace Sex, Tentacle Creature Sheriff, Tentacle Nest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-01
Updated: 2014-08-01
Packaged: 2018-02-11 07:35:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2059488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seanbiggerstaffrox/pseuds/Seanbiggerstaffrox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Stiles and Sheriff are about to take that final step in whatever’s been developing between them for years, and Stiles gulps, anxious. Even in perfect circumstances, it would still be a nerve-wracking situation, but ever since his dad got bitten, the prospect’s become exponentially more terrifying.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Torsion

**Author's Note:**

> Did someone order Stilincestacles? It's the thing you never knew you wanted. 
> 
> P.S. Happy (belated) birthday, Miguel

** Torsion: **

Stiles and Sheriff are about to take that final step in whatever’s been developing between them for years, and Stiles gulps, anxious. Even in perfect circumstances, it would still be a nerve-wracking situation, but ever since his dad got bitten, the prospect’s become exponentially more terrifying. It’s part of the reason they’ve waited so long. But Stiles is ready now. Scared as he is, he wants this, even if it’s going to be seriously weird.

Stiles paces back and forth in the hotel room. They’d driven out of town, far enough out of the way where no one’s going to know them. They’re in a suite. It’s fancy and blisteringly romantic and Stiles kicks up rose petals as he traipses over the white carpet, squinting in the candlelight and chewing his finger nails. His father’s in the bathroom, getting prepared. They were originally going to have sex on the bed, but Stiles knew they’d end up in the bath sooner or later, so he figured they’d skip ahead a step. Plus, it gives him a moment of solitude to compose himself.

Part of him wants to dive right into this and get it over with. Not that he wouldn’t enjoy it, but the first time’s bound to be awkward, especially with his dad and especially when his dad’s been blessed with certain supernatural accessories. Tentacles, basically. His dad’s a tentacle monster, so he’s about to cross over all sorts of social and moral boundaries. He doesn’t necessarily mind that – it’s kind of par for the course for Stiles – but there’s another part of him that wants to keep waiting for the rest of eternity and this is a really good rationalization for it. Hell, if he waits long enough maybe he’ll find someone nice and normal to settle down with, but just the thought of it has Stiles stepping closer to the bathroom, fingers itching to feel his father’s skin. He’s in love with his dad and he came to terms with that a while ago, so he’s not going to let himself revisit that crisis just because he has a case of cold feet.

There’s a cough from the bathroom and Stiles jumps. He made his dad go in first so he didn’t have to see the transformation. He thought it would take longer. A splash follows the sound and Stiles’ heart hammers in his chest as he thinks about what he’s going to see when he steps inside.

“Stiles? I’m ready.” His father says, voice mirroring Stiles’ hesitation.

The teen steps forward, realizing that in all his nervous fidgeting he’d actually forgotten to strip. He got his plaid button up off but he hadn’t gotten further than that. He slips his shoes off and turns the doorknob, shuffling shyly into the bathroom. He lets out a heavy breath, looking up at his dad.

Sheriff Stilinski’s fully transformed, his tentacles spanning out over the side of the large, group-size tub. Warm candles sit on the counter of the sink, flickering light over the room. Stiles drags his feet through more rose petals, socks soaking up drops of water from the tiles. The sheriff’s eyes trail down, taking in his still-dressed state.

“Having second thoughts?” Sheriff asks.

Stiles shakes his head, quickly. “No, I just…I was thinking.”

They’re not cracking jokes. They should be, but the situation’s too important and Stiles knows any attempt at humor would only make his dad pull away. The sheriff’s deadly serious and totally protective, so Stiles keeps himself genuine and doesn’t give his dad any more ammo to assume Stiles isn’t on board with this.

Sheriff cocks his head. “You want to get in?” He asks.

Stiles feels his cheeks heat. He looks down at the swirling mass of tentacles emerging from the tub and then up at his father’s face. He licks his lips and grabs the hem of his shirt, pulling it up quickly. He slips his socks off then his pants, undressing mechanically and hastily, aware of his dad’s gaze on him the whole time. When he looks up, the sheriff’s staring into his face, waiting patiently and kindly for whatever Stiles wants to do.

Stiles hesitates at his underwear then shakes his head and strips them off. The tentacles twitch toward him but don’t complete the journey, pulled back quickly by his father’s self-control. Stiles never took as well to the appendages as they took to him. His father confessed a while ago that his tentacles seem to have a mind of their own and they’re almost always focused on Stiles.

They want to touch him, squeeze him, hold him, fuck him. Because that’s what sex with his dad is going to entail, really. The sheriff’s dick still has it’s functions, but since he got turned into a were-octopus or whatever, arousal doesn’t seem to be one of them. That might change with time, but as it is now, it’s the tentacles that are itching to get inside Stiles, and the youngest Stilinski is still having trouble comprehending that.

Stiles takes a step toward the bathtub and a wayward feeler strokes up his side. He shivers, wetting his mouth and looking down at the limb. It’s slimy and wriggles, slicking up his skin in teasing touches. Stiles continues his journey, determined, and steps into the bath, assisted by a cautious tentacle that wraps around his waist.

“It’s not that deep.” Stiles says, eyeing the appendage warily. It wriggles against his skin, but its hold is firm and steady as it brings him forward within the cocoon of his father’s embrace.

Sheriff gives him a disapproving look, because he’s kind of an overprotective weirdo now that he’s got were-hormones thrown into his biology. Stiles finds it simultaneously irritating and comforting.

A thrill goes through him when he’s pressed solidly up against his father. The skin-on-skin contact runs from his dad’s shoulder down to his waist, where the sheriff’s body then tapers off into something more fishy and slick. His hips are dark and made almost entirely of muscle, and it looks like the top of a merman tail, only it splits off into a legion of long, black-purple tentacles. Stiles licks his lips, looking up at his father.

“So, um…” Stiles looks at his dad’s mouth then up at his light eyes. A feeler caresses his back and Stiles shudders. “Do you know how this is going to work, exactly?”

A few months ago, the sheriff talked to Deaton about sex, which was extremely awkward. He didn’t say who he was planning on having sex with of course, and at the time it was mostly to get an idea, but he’s glad he did. Even if Deaton wasn’t terribly helpful. “I’m not sure.” Sheriff confesses. “I just know it’ll involve these.” A tentacle flexes. “And this.” An appendage runs between Stiles’ ass cheeks. A sucker pulls at the edge of his hole and Stiles jumps, mouth falling open on a gasp.

“Whoa.” He mutters, clutching at his dad’s shoulders.

His father pulls the limb away immediately, looking sheepish. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“No, no, it’s fine.” Stiles says, face heating. He wants to tell his dad to put it back, only a little more to the center this time, but he refrains. They’ll have more time for that later, but for now they’re going to take it slow.

After a few moments, he realizes it’s going to be real slow since both of them are too nervous and awkward to make a move. Stiles almost says fuck it and just goes for it, but he stops in the last second because it doesn’t feel right. He wants a buildup. He wants something softer than a hasty kiss and hurried fumbling.

It’s too quiet, Stiles realizes. The atmosphere’s right – candles, petals, a warm tub – but there’s just eerie silence around the room and Stiles knows once they get started it’ll be the same echo-y stillness, just with squelching and sex noises. Stiles has trouble even masturbating when it’s too quiet. He doesn’t like the sound of his slick moving over his fingers or his harsh breathing.

“Should we put on some music?” Stiles asks. He has his ipod out in the hotel. He can go get it.

The sheriff’s eyes widen in realization. “I knew I forgot something.” He says, gesturing at the radio on the bathroom counter. He reaches toward it with a tentacle and Stiles is struck by just how long those things are. They’re strong too, he’s seen his dad stand up with them and the sheriff towers over him like some sort of leviathan. It’s pretty intimidating. It’s even worse when he knows that his dad doesn’t even need to be in the water for it – he can transform on dry land and move just fine, if a bit slower. Hell, he’s torn werewolves apart with those things, and Stiles just hopes he’s a bit gentler when it comes to assplay.

Stiles is pretty sure he will be though. The sheriff’s instincts are always honed in on Stiles. He’s careful, a little possessive, and frightfully protective. He doesn’t stop Stiles from joining in on the big fights, but if anyone hurts Stiles, it usually doesn’t end well for them. And then Stiles finds himself wrapped up in a tentacle cocoon and basically under house arrest for a few days.

It’s a little obvious, really, the way sheriff coddles him. The youngest Stilinski is pretty sure the pack’s figured out that their bond’s not quite that of father and son. It’s not less or more, Stiles thinks, because they’re definitely family and they care about each other in that way, but it’s different, because he loves his dad, but he’s also in love with him. And it’s hard to hide that sometimes. The pack never mentions it though, and whatever their feelings, the subject remains undiscussed.

The radio comes on and Stiles snorts at the music selection. His dad’s chosen some older, country music for the occasion and it’s a bit romantic and a lot cheesy.

“I wasn’t sure what you wanted.” The sheriff confesses.

Stiles shakes his head. “It’s good. It’s perfect.” It’s not the type of stuff he’d probably pick, but it’s entirely his dad and that makes it flawless.

Stiles kneels on his knees, feeling them rub against the porcelain of the tub as he raises himself just enough to be at equal height with the sheriff. He grins softly and leans forward, pressing a light kiss to the man’s lips. His dad raises a hand, letting his palm settle softly against Stiles’ cheek.

“You sure you’re ready?” The sheriff asks.

Stiles huffs out a laugh. “We drove three hours for this.” He points out. “It’s Valentine’s Day. Of course I’m ready.” He admits and it’s true. He’s nervous, he’s scared, but he’s not going to back out. He wants this. A thought strikes him and he leans back, studying his father’s face. “Are you?” He asks. He waits with bated breath, stomach twisting anxiously. With the possibility of his dad saying ‘no’ looming, he realizes just how eager for this he actually is. He’s been yearning for this for so long now and the idea of a longer delay is almost physically painful. He’ll get through it if he has to, but it will epically suck.

“Yeah, Stiles, I am.” His father says and Stiles breathes out a sigh of relief. “It’s just gonna be really weird.”

“Yeah.” Stiles admits, eyeing his father’s extra appendages.

Neither of them are particularly kinky. They’re both pretty vanilla, which might be surprising given the whole incest thing, but neither of them has been quick to skip ahead to the sexual stuff and neither has been eager to incorporate anything remotely wild into what they have done. Hell, they haven’t done much of anything as it is. Before his dad got turned, he and Stiles mostly just made out on the couch, and since his dad got turned, they barely manage that because the man sprouts tentacles every time he gets excited and that has a tendency to kill the mood pretty quick. Especially since it keeps destroying his dad’s clothes.

“Doesn’t mean it won’t be good though.” Stiles says, trying to comfort both of them. He does wish they were doing this under more normal circumstances, but hell, his dad’s hot, tentacles or not. He could get into this, he really could. At least, he hopes so.

The sheriff nods, not looking totally convinced.

Stiles sighs, pulling away from his father. The sheriff looks up quickly, tentacles flexing in protest, but Stiles keeps moving until he’s on the other side of the tub.

“Stiles?” The eldest Stilinski asks. “What are you doing?”

Stiles grabs a bottle of body wash, pouring some onto his palm. “You clearly need to think about this some more, so I am taking a bath.” He explains, rubbing his hands to get the soap bubbly. He runs the cleaner up his arms, stroking over his skin and relaxing. It’s been a long time since he had a bath and he forgot how nice they were.

The sheriff watches him, fingers flexing in the water.

Stiles rubs the soap into his skin, moving down to his chest. He’s not particularly artful about it. He doesn’t really need to be, because even just watching his son mechanically clean himself has the sheriff sniffing the air and launching himself over to the other side of the basin, where he presses up against the teen.

Stiles chuckles. “I take it you’ve thought.” He says, leaning his head back as his dad presses into his neck, sniffing deeply.

“You’re such a smartass.” The sheriff grumbles. He lifts a hand, wiping the soap away. He doesn’t want Stiles smelling like hotel body wash, he wants him smelling like them.

Stiles feels wriggling limbs press up under his legs, lifting and separating them so his father can fall completely against him. The tentacles don’t stop moving, creating constant flexes and brushes against the back of his thighs, and more come to circle around his waist, wrapping him up in a slick, squirming embrace. Stiles shivers, biting his lip.

His dad moves up, freeing Stiles’ lip and engaging his mouth in a kiss. It’s gentle and romantic, with both of them exploring and tasting each other. It’s been a while since they’ve done this, but Stiles falls back into it easily, rediscovering the sensations of kissing his father. It makes him melt. It’s not like instant fireworks, but it’s something slow and steady and warm that heats him in gradual increments.

The sheriff licks along the inside of Stiles’ lip and the youngest Stilinski lets out a breathless noise, reaching a soapy hand up to tangle in his father’s hair. Suckers pull at the inseam of Stiles’ legs and he gasps, feet twitching and body arching up into his dad’s.

The sheriff moves down from Stiles’ mouth to nip and suck at his son’s neck. Stiles’ head falls back against the tiled wall and he lets out a quiet moan. The kisses on his throat feel nice and his eyelashes flutter. He’s warm and content in his father’s hold and he’s pretty sure he could stay like this forever.

Tentacles latch onto his sides, sticking with light suction, and Stiles jumps, a surprised moan slipping from his throat. He thinks he ought to be grossed out, but it feels like mouths layering over his skin, moist and hungry.

Stiles is half-hard, his pent up libido coming eagerly to the surface. The promise of sex has thrills racing up and down his insides, and feeling his dad up against him, pressing open-mouthed caresses to his collarbone, has him just this edge of desperate. Even the tentacles coiling around him are unwinding spools of pleasure in his gut. They’re a dark temptation and Stiles pries his eyes open, glancing down in anticipation.

He reaches a hand out, stroking over the fishy flesh, and his dad shivers. Feelers curl around Stiles, wrapping around his back and moving him so he’s sitting on the bulge of appendages curling out from his dad’s hip, like a lap for him to settle onto. His dad kisses him hungrily, shifting in restless motions that push them out to the middle of the tub. The water laps at Stiles’ ribs and he holds onto his dad, gasping softly into the man’s mouth as he feels tentacles wriggle and stroke over him. He can’t stop his hips from moving, grinding into his dad in little rolls to tease friction along his erection.

“Want you.” Stiles gasps into his dad’s mouth.

“Want you too.” The sheriff replies, kissing along his jaw. His dad keeps moving, down and down until he’s disappearing under the water, and Stiles lets out a noise of confusion. Tentacles shift, wrapping around Stiles from behind and holding him. His wrists are gripped between two appendages and Stiles frowns, starting to pull on the hold until he feels his dad kissing along his waist, following the happy trail downward.

Stiles’ breaths stutter then freeze altogether when a tongue licks up the head of his erection. He lets out a surprised cry. He’s pretty sure he’d fall forward, head first into the water, if it weren’t for his father’s tight hold on him.

His father doesn’t seem to need to come up for air as he licks and sucks and nips, sending Stiles spiraling over the edge. Stiles goes limp, panting and watching his father emerge from below

“I wanted to come with you inside me.” Stiles says.

“You will.” The sheriff promises and Stiles shudders.

He’s moved, pressed so his front is leaning against the tiled wall. He’s held securely by his father’s tentacles, so there’s no fear of falling, but Stiles still puts his hands up against the wall for support, unable to stop from feeling unbalanced as his dad disappears under the water again.

His cheeks are parted, allowing his father to press up between them, and he lets out a whine as a tongue pushes against his entrance. Stiles’ sensitive dick gives a twitch, and he closes his eyes, panting as his father works past the ring of muscles to get inside, pushing up against sensitive nerves and pink flesh.

“ _Oh_.” Stiles moans, fingers digging into the wall as he gasps. He can’t stop broken, helpless whimpers from falling past his lips as he arches back into it. It’s like nothing he’s ever felt before – like his father’s found a special pleasure button that makes his whole system malfunction. He can’t even think like this, can’t even keep track of the passing seconds as his father introduces him to foreign forms of bliss. Whatever intent his dick had of going soft is firmly cut off as Stiles sobs into the wall, hips twitching uncontrollably in his dad’s tentacles as he tries to push back and get more.

Stiles is a mess by the time his dad pulls away. He lets out a disappointed groan and his dad kisses up his tailbone, following his back until he’s up by Stiles’ ear, shushing him and pressing a slick feeler against Stiles’ entrance.

“If I’d known that would get this kind of reaction out of you, I’d have done it a lot sooner.” The sheriff says, voice husky.

Stiles whines, because he can’t really formulate a response at the moment. He glances over his shoulder and his dad’s watching him, pupils dilated and hungry.

“Can I?” The sheriff asks, flexing the tentacle at his entrance.

Stiles swallows thickly and nods. It’s the big moment now, where he’s going to find out just what it feels like to have a tentacle inside him. It’s one of his dad’s smaller ones, a thin tendril used to prepare him. It still burns going in.

Stiles struggles to relax around the squirming limb, closing his eyes and mentally counting to ten, then back down, then back up in endless cycles as the feeler pushes into him, stretching the muscles out. It thrusts shallowly, and Stiles’ stomach flips. He’s already feeling wet from how slick the thing is, and the suckers gulp up the extra goo, catching at Stiles’ rim and pulling along his hole. Another tentacle joins in the mix, and Stiles can already tell that at the end of this is a type of pleasure he’s not prepared for.

It goes like this for a while, until Stiles is panting against the wall and feeling sloppy with slime. His dad found his prostate at one point but avoided it after, which is good, because he’s pretty sure he wouldn’t have lasted through that.

“Stiles.” His dad says, breaking through the fog.

“Yeah?” Stiles gasps.

“I don’t want to scare you.” His dad says and that has Stiles on edge. “But I’m not going to fuck you with one of these.” He flexes his tentacle.

Stiles looks back, frowning in curiosity and disappointment. His father directs his attention downward and Stiles gapes. Emerging out from under the rest of the tentacles is something new – it’s like a bundle of feelers, all wrapped together and writhing. It looks fucked up, frankly, but Stiles can’t stop feeling more intrigued than put off. He thinks he must be kinkier than he thought.

“Are you still okay with-”

“Yes.” Stiles says, too quickly, too eagerly. His dad looks at him, surprised, and Stiles blushes, heart hammering in his chest. It’s weird that he’s worried about his dad, the tentacle monster, judging him, but he kind of is.

“Are you sure?” His dad asks.

“Look, I know I should be freaked out, but it’s kind of doing it for me.” Stiles admits. “So please fuck me.”

The sheriff lets out a heavy breath, reining in his self-control. He turns Stiles over, so he can see his son face to face as he lines himself up at Stiles’ entrance.

Stiles waits, freezing in anticipation as he feels the tentacle nest prod at his hole. It burns going in, even with all the slick and preparation, but it’s bearable, especially at the slow pace his father’s setting. The constant moving and swirling has Stiles clenching around his father, letting out feeble moans.

The tentacles stop when they reach a suitable distance inside of him. Stiles is pretty sure he felt them extending at some point, so he guesses that they’re made to fit the hole they’re fucking. Stiles wonders how long they could actually go and his dick twitches. Sheriff gives Stiles a moment to adjust before warning him that he’s going to move, which is pointless because the damn things haven’t stopped moving since they entered him.

The sheriff shifts and Stiles finds himself back in the center of the tub, sitting on what serves for his father’s lap. He doesn’t even manage to ask his dad what’s going on before it’s Stiles that’s being moved, lifted off of the tentacle nest before getting pulled back down again. His father’s were-strength allows him to move Stiles effortlessly and the youngest Stilinski moans, undeniably turned on by that.

A wrap of limbs curls around him, helping to shift him up and down on the swirling intrusion. Stiles moans, hands tangling inside a vine of slick appendages, and he holds on for dear life as his head falls back and his mouth hangs open on stuttered breaths.

“Dad. _Dad_. Oh!”

The sheriff groans, pushing his face up against Stiles’ chest. “Does it feel good?” He asks, voice strained.

“Amazing.” Stiles gasps, arching into the thrusts. His prostate’s hit dead-on and he shakes. “Can’t believe you’re finally – oh! – fucking me.” He stutters out, toes curling. Although he supposes accurately the sheriff’s fucking Stiles onto him. The feelers twist and push, writhing against sensitive nerves. Stiles groans out a choked ‘daddy’ and his body melts in his father’s grip. His head hangs forward and his eyes are clenched shut, lights dancing behind his eyelids.

A tentacle curls around Stiles’ cock, a sucker sliding over the head of his erection, and Stiles hiccups on a sob, going limp in his dad’s hold as his body quakes.

“Beautiful.” The sheriff breathes, reaching deeper into Stiles.

“I’m coming, Dad. I’m gonna-” Stiles breaks off on a silent cry, dick twitching and hole squeezing around his father. The tentacle moves off of the head of his cock and Stiles releases streams of cum into the water. He feels the tentacle nest in him swell and his eyes roll up in his head as thick spurts fill him up, locked in by the swollen base of his dad’s feelers.

The sheriff cries Stiles’ name, leaning their foreheads together as he comes into his son.

They gasp into each other’s mouths, riding out the waves of shock and pleasure. Stiles’ hips gyrate, his orgasm echoing in his body with stabs of desire. His father still moves against him, spurts filling him up.

“Wow.” Stiles breathes, shivering at the feel of the thick liquid inside him.

“Yeah.” The sheriff says in response.

Stiles pries his eyes open, staring down at his dad, who looks up with a half-lidded, lustful gaze.

“Did you – I mean – did you like it?” Stiles asks, feeling vulnerable. His dad’s still locked in him, fresh from an orgasm, and Stiles can’t help but worry that it wasn’t good or his dad didn’t enjoy it that much or he’s not really that into Stiles after this.

The sheriff leans in close, running a finger over Stiles’ lips. He’s used to this from Stiles, this worry that the sheriff is going to want to back out of the relationship. He’s learned by now not to hedge around questions like this. “I never want to stop doing this with you.” He says, pressing a soft kiss to his son’s lips. “In fact, you’re grounded. No more pack meetings, no more school, just us at home like this.”

Stiles presses another kiss to his father’s lips. “I think I can manage that.” He says.


End file.
